Nothing Left to Give
by rebellion2fate
Summary: Sequel to TIA. Seven years have passed since the Fullmetal Alchemist disappeared, and since then war has taken a deep hold on the nation. The enemies of the State have formed an alliance and the State's shaky foundation may not survive. RoyxEd
1. Blanket of Fear

_**This is the Sequel to Take It All Away, and it is essential for your comprehension that you have read the first installment. If you have not done so, you can find the link to the story on my author profile page. Thanks! **_

**Pre-Fic Author's Note: **I'm back! I'm sorry about the long wait for this, but school has been crazy! I never believed anyone when they said your Junior year was your hardest, but they sure as hell were right! This year has already flown by so fast, but now that marching season is about over I should have more time to write. I sure hope so!

**Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist or any of it's characters.**

**Warnings: This is yaoi. If you have a problem with this, feel free to leave. **

This story is war-centric, which means that there may be a few graphic scenes scattered throughout the fic. There will also be strong language at times, as well as a high probability of lime/lemon content. The rating in this fic may go up to Mature with time. If there are any problems with this, please let me know! I want as many people to be able to read this as want to, so if there is a problem I will try my best to keep it Teen. If this is the case, I may post an uncut version on Mediaminer as well under the same pen name. Just let me know!

**Nothing Left to Give**

_You can have power over people as long as _

_You don't take everything away from them. _

_But when you've robbed a man of everything, _

_He's no longer in your power._

-Aleksandr I. Solzhenitsyn:

**Chapter 1: Blanket of Fear**

Shadows danced across the broken remains of a town now ablaze with flame. The only sound that could be heard above the roar of the fire was the distant echo of gun and cannon fire that continuously shook the ground. Smoke, along with the smell of sulfur and burning flesh, hung rank in the air and cloaked the battle ensuing below in darkness. The only source of light was cast by the very fire that consumed the town. The battle had lasted for two days straight, yet still showed no signs of ceasing. The soldiers' desperation was mounting as their weariness increased and casualties were growing more numerous by the hour.

In the middle of all of this chaos and confusion a single figure could be easily distinguished, his form outlined by the light of the flames. From his place atop a hill the man scanned the battle being waged below, his jaw set and mouth drawn into a grim line. A closer look would reveal the man's face to be drawn and soot-covered, no doubt the result of endless hours spent in the throes of battle, yet still even in midst of the chaos, there was an air about the mysterious man that simply demanded respect. His eyes were those of a man who had experienced more then any one man should ever have to bear alone.Suddenly, another round of cannon fire shook the ground and spurred the furtive man from his silent contemplation.

"General! The Naturalists have broken through the second defensive barrier!" Another man, this one much larger in build than the first, called as he quickly ascended the hill. The light ensuing from the cannon fire revealed both men to be wearing navy blue uniforms; the uniforms worn by the members of the State Militia. "They've made their way into the city!"

The man who was now known to be of the rank of General, turned to regard the other man with calculating eyes. "How many?" He demanded, his eyes turning to scan the city once again, using his higher advantage point to catch a glimpse of the invading force. His eyes darkened dangerously.

"Hundreds. Maybe even a thousand." The other replied breathlessly, wiping at a wound on his forehead with the back of his hand. They began quickly descending the hill, the General nearly running in order to quickly return to his men. "They lack firepower, but they more than make up for it with sheer numbers."

"Any word of backup?"

"None."

"Dammit!" The General swore, finally reaching level ground and sprinting into the center of the city, his subordinate hot on his heels. He drew a white glove from his coat pocket and pulled it onto his left hand, flexing his fingers as they drew closer to the battle. Any further words between the pair was lost as a second cannon blast sounded, this time much closer than the first.

The Naturalists had begun to swarm the city, meeting little resistance as the bulk of the military force had already fallen back to the third and final blockade. The few militiamen that were left behind were quickly slaughtered or taken captive by the Naturalists as they continued to move further into the city. The streets were riddled injured soldiers who had been tossed aside to await their imminent death if such a mercy had not already befallen them. It seemed as if nothing would stop the Naturalists from taking the city.

"General Mustang, Lieutenant Colonel!" A brunette Lieutenant exclaimed upon seeing her commanding officers returning to the blockade from behind. She met them halfway, looking as if she would collapse from exhaustion if it was not for her sheer determination to keep going. She gave them both a short salute. "We need orders."

"Lieutenant Ross." Roy acknowledged with a slight nod of his head. He scanned the blockade, taking in the evidence of their depleted numbers. Only a mere half of their force remained. Countless soldiers had been injured and even more were presumably dead. His hands curled into fists at his sides. "Report."

"All of our remaining forces have been ordered to fall back to the final barrier, General." Ross responded grimly, her own jaw clenched. "As you can see, there aren't many of us left."

"Still no word of backup?"

"I'm afraid not, sir."

"Alright." Roy responded at length, acutely aware of the Naturalists' battle cries growing ever nearer. He drew a deep breath. "Prepare for battle. We must hold the Naturalists off at all costs."

Both Armstrong and Ross snapped their heels together and saluted their commanding officer. "Yes sir!" They replied in unison just as the Naturalists finally reached the barrier. The final battle had only just begun.

R-2-F

"Wait up, you guys! You're going too fast!"

"You're just going too slow!" Joshua retorted, doing nothing to shorten his stride as he raced towards the city. "Come on! We've got to get home before the sun rises! Gramps is gonna kill us!"

"I _know _that!" The blonde, and the youngest in the group, snapped in return as he pushed his legs to go faster in order to keep up with the brunette man and his brother. "But--" Suddenly he stopped short, his eyes glued to something in the distance. His legs gave way and he abruptly fell to his knees. Luckily, his brother had noticed his pause and stopped as well.

"What is it?" Russell demanded, panting lightly. "This isn't the time to mess--"

"T-the city!" Fletcher cried, pointing a finger in horror at the sight before him. "Look at the city!"

Russell turned obediently, his own eyes widening. "The city…" He echoed, scarcely able to believe what he was seeing with his own eyes. Joshua had frozen as well, his own eyes glued to the burning town of Xenotime. And then, in the blink of an eye, all three men were racing towards the city.

R-2-F

The heat was becoming unbearable as Havoc and the others continued their futile attempt to keep the Naturalists from taking the city. The fire had now completely engulfed the town, all efforts to extinguish the fire had been abandoned in favor of holding off the enemy. Even with the aid of every able bodied soldier, the military was vastly outnumbered by the Naturalists and thus were at an extreme disadvantage. Even with their superior weaponry and skills, there was no way the State could win.

Movement to his left caught Havoc's eye. A Naturalist lunged at him, gun drawn and aimed, before Jean could so much as blink. He raised his own gun, but he already knew it would be too little too late. The Naturalist would pull the trigger before Havoc could even begin to take aim. He shut his eyes and waited for the gunshot.

When moments passed and nothing happened, Havoc finally cracked an eye open to find the man's form on the ground before him, engulfed in flame. The blonde could not suppress a sigh of relief. "I owe you one, Roy-boy."

"You owe me many, Lieutenant." His savior retorted without sparing him so much as a glance, his fingers still poised. Another Naturalist lunged at them having seen his comrade fall, only to suffer the same fate as the other. Roy snorted in disgust as the man's charred remains fell in a heap at his feet. "Where are our reinforcements?" He growled as another wave of Naturalists attempted to breach the blockade.

"There won't be any, Commander." Havoc answered as he disarmed a man who was brandishing a saber, knocking the weapon from the inexperienced Naturalist's hand with his dagger with relative ease. "Central can't get backup here in time. We're on our own."

"Dammit!" Roy swore as he incapacitated a handful of Naturalists with his flame. When next there was a pause in the battle, he turned his attention back to his friend. "There's no way we can win this battle, is there Jean?" Roy demanded, his pride not allowing him to let any hint of resignation show.

Jean's breath came in pants as he turned his own eyes to his commanding officer, suddenly very aware of his surroundings. The smoke was becoming stifling, and it was all the blonde could do to keep breathing. His throat burned from inhaling the toxic fumes for as long as he had, and Jean knew with sudden certainty they would not be able to last much longer. Instead of speaking, he shook his head.

Roy drew in a deep breath thoughtfully, only to abruptly choke as he inhaled too much smoke. He placed a hand over his mouth as his chest heaved with the effect wracking coughs. He bent at the waist slightly, doubling over in hopes of calming the unexpected fit. His eyes stung and his chest felt as if it were on fire.

As fate would have it, the Naturalists completely broke through the final barrier at that moment, almost as if they sensed the General's sudden moment of vulnerability. They rushed into the center of the city, overtaking the remaining forces in a matter of seconds. Jean covered Roy as best he could, valiantly drawing his guns and firing at the charging rebels, but to little avail.

A sudden burst of flame signaled the General's recovery. The Naturalists' path was effectively blocked for the moment, but the raging barrier would only last for so long. Roy nodded to his subordinate, his eyes never leaving the enemy who could now be seen through the dying flames. "Take the men and fall back into the woods." He demanded shortly, his dry throat causing his voice to crack painfully.

"We're retreating, Commander?" Havoc reiterated, his surprise carefully masked behind the impersonal façade of a soldier. It was not in his friend's nature to admit defeat unless the situation was truly dire. It was in that moment that Jean realized just how much was at risk. "But what about HQ?" He couldn't help but asking, fearing the consequences of an unauthorized retreat.

Roy turned his back to Havoc, standing rigidly as he tugged at the glove on his hand in an almost nervous gesture. "Should we somehow manage to make it out of here alive, I'll deal with headquarters personally." He shot a glance at his friend. "I've authorized the retreat; your only job is to relay the order, Lieutenant." He raised his hand with his fingers poised to snap. "I'll take care of damage control."

Havoc saluted smartly in response, sensing with adept perceptiveness the darker meaning behind the Commander's words. "Sure thing, Boss." He turned on his heel and lunged into the chaos of the battle, relaying the order to retreat as loudly as possible in order to be heard over the roar of the battle.

R-2-F

"Gramps?" Joshua demanded as he kicked in what remained of the door that once served as the entrance into their house. Russell and Fletcher were right on his heels, each calling out frantically to the house's owner. The building was already engulfed in flame and it was only a matter of moments before it's supports began to give way. "Where the hell are you, old man?!"

"Belsio!" Russell echoed. The roar of the fire was deafening, and the three men could barely breathe inside the flaming furnace. "Belsio, are you here?!" The older blonde took a step forward, only to freeze as he felt the floorboard beneath his foot groan in protest. A quick glance at his surroundings told Russell that the house was only moments from giving way. His desperation mounted. "Belsio!"

Joshua's eyes carefully scanned the visible space for anything that would hint at the man's whereabouts, his eyes coming to rest on what appeared to be the remains of what once was a trap door. Belsio had long ago told them that if anything was to happen, they were to take that trap door and follow the escape route below that would eventually take them out of the city through a series of underground tunnels. "He's gone." He told the others firmly, gesturing to the open door. "The city must have evacuated."

"How do you know everyone made it out?" Fletcher demanded frantically, unwilling to risk leaving a single villager behind. "What if someone's still out there?"

"Fletcher, don't be ridiculous." Russell snapped as he grabbed his younger brother's arm and began to drag him from the burning house. "They're smart people; They're long gone by now!"

"But-"

"Come on, we don't have time!" Joshua snapped, acutely aware of the nearing sounds of a battle. It was clear that the invaders were in the city, and the brunette found himself fighting back the urge to go and fight the devils himself. "They're getting closer!"

"He's right." Russell agreed as he released his brother's arm, leading the way into a back alley. It seemed to be one of the few paths that was not littered with bodies, but the bodies he _had _seen, the blonde realized with a sigh of relief, were not those of the villagers. "Come on, hurry up!" He snapped, more out of habit then anything else. He could feel Joshua hot on his trail and knew that Fletcher would be close behind him.

Suddenly the ground shook as an enormous explosion came from the center of town. Russell did not stop to turn back, too intent on escaping the chaos alive to pay heed to such a thing. Unfortunately, Fletcher did not share the same state of mind. The teen's steps faltered and he turned just in time to see the old inn go up in flames. Before Joshua could stop him, Fletcher had taken off and was quickly disappearing into the thick smoke. "Fletcher!"

The teen was already gone, and as Joshua turned to call out to Russell he found that the other brother had disappeared as well. Russell had clearly not realized that the others had stopped and was probably long gone by now. Cursing his luck, Joshua turned and ran after Fletcher, praying that the trio would meet up again on the outskirts of town.

The thick smoke made it difficult to see more than a foot ahead, and Joshua found himself nearly tripping over something or another with every step he took. He knew the youngest Tringum well enough to know where the boy was headed, and Joshua thanked the stars that he had lived in the town long enough to know his way around without having to rely on sight.

A nearby gunshot had the brunette pushing his legs to go faster. The invaders did not seem to have gotten this far into the town yet, but there was a possibility that a few of them had been sent ahead of the group to scout the area for the enemy. Who the enemy was, Joshua didn't know, but if Fletcher had been shot… "Fletcher!" He screamed desperately, unable to even finish the thought.

Suddenly Joshua felt his foot connect with something solid seconds before he went tumbling to the ground. He hit the ground, only to find himself splayed out on the dirt road beside the very person he was looking for. His eyes widened in recognition. "Fletcher!" He exclaimed, scrambling to his knees to grab the blonde before he could try to run off again and at the same time checking the smaller man for injuries. "You fucking idiot!"

Fletcher winced, but the brunette was relieved to find that it wasn't from pain. The boy's face was covered in ash and dirt but he seemed to be uninjured. Still, something about the boy's eyes unnerved Joshua. "What's going on." He demanded, hands clenching the boy's upper arms in a viselike grip.

"Ask questions later." A new voice suddenly spoke up.

Joshua had drawn his gun and aimed it at the newcomer before anyone could so much as blink an eye. The smoke prevented the blonde from getting a clear view of the person his gun was currently trained on, but his hand was steady. "Fletcher, get back." Joshua demanded lowly, carefully rising to his feet. He ushered the younger man behind him without so much as taking his eyes off of the mysterious man who had yet to so much as turn around. "Who the hell are you?!"

Finally the smoke cleared enough for the man's attire to be recognized, and Joshua found the gun suddenly dangling from limp fingers. He was wearing a State Military uniform. Not only that, the man appeared to be of high ranking. "What the hell is the State doing here?!" Joshua growled, regaining his grip on the gun.

"I don't have time to explain myself to a civilian!" The man snapped in return, finally turning to face the two men. "Just get out of-"

Joshua's eyes met familiar onyx, and time seemed to stop.

The sound of the gun hitting the ground seemed to echo in the sudden quiet. Joshua stood there, his eyes wide with a mixture of shock and fear. The military man seemed to mirror his surprise and stood there rigidly, his eyes barely betraying his own shock. Fletcher looked from one to the other, a frown marring his brow in clear confusion. They stood there for what seemed to be an eternity, all seeming too afraid to move, before the State militiaman finally found his voice.

"…Edward."

R-2-F

Author's Note: Yay! It's finished! My first chapter, and sadly the one that probably has taken the longest to get out. I've been working on it for two or three weeks now. War scenes are _not _my forte, but I'm just going to have to get use to writing them! I hope that the next chapter won't take as long coming out. I seriously doubt it will; This was the first chapter, and as such it is probably the most complex.

So how did you like the first chapter? Hate it? Love it? Leave a review and let me know!

For those of you who don't visit my profile, I've started a LiveJournal to post my fan fiction on. I haven't gotten used to the thing yet, but hopefully I'll be able to keep you up to date on my works and give you updates on how far along I am on a chapter- that sort of thing! I even plan to give you sneak peaks of upcoming stories and/or chapters! I've seen several other writers do this, and finally broke down and made one of my own. This way if you should find any major errors while reading (heaven forbid!), you can point it out to me before posting. The link is in my author's profile as my homepage, so take a look!

Until next time,

R2F


	2. Sons of Plunder

**Nothing Left to Give**

_Patriotism is supporting your country all the time,_

_And your government when it deserves it._

-Mark Twain

**Chapter 2: Sons of Plunder**

R-2-F

Fletcher's sharp intake of breath effectively shattered the moment.

Nearly all of the color had drained from the brunette's face as his identity was so abruptly exposed. Joshua -or Edward, as he had just been revealed to truly be- shot the blonde teen a worried glance. What he found on Fletcher's expressive face was not at all what he had expected; he had expected betrayal, confusion, or maybe even traces of anger. Instead he found a look of fierce protectiveness blanketing Fletcher's countenance, the boy's jade eyes fixed on the General.

"Who are you?" Fletcher demanded in an uncharacteristically grave voice. His eyes revealed not even a glimmer of the emotions that Edward had so dreaded. In fact, he seemed completely unfazed by the newfound revelation. "You must have the wrong guy-- this is Joshua, not _Edward_ or whoever you seem to think he is!"

Mustang's eyes narrowed in response. His gaze finally shifted in turn to the youngest of the three for a brief moment before resettling on the brunette in question. There was no mistaking that the man was indeed Edward Elric-- the only other person who could possibly have the man's golden eyes had been dead for years. "You're right." He said at length, his eyes remaining locked on Ed's meaningfully. "I must be mistaken."

Ed felt a chill go up his spine at the intense gaze of the older man and had no choice but to lower his own eyes. How _could _he look Roy Mustang in the eye after all of the hell that he'd put him through so many years ago, when even now the very life Edward led was nothing more than a lie? It was simple-- he couldn't.

Roy's eyes lingered on Ed's bent head for a moment before he remembered his surroundings with sudden clarity. The roar of cannon fire and the heat of the blazing fire returned to the General in a rush. "Who you are doesn't matter so long as you _leave _right _now_." He commanded urgently, emotion fast fading from his eyes as he slipped on a spare pair of gloves. "It's only a matter of time before the Naturalists push their way to the center of the city."

Ed knew that he should have simply listened to the man, but his mouth had already begun to run off without him before his brain could catch up. "Where's the rest of your regiment?" He demanded, not even giving himself time to be shocked over his own boldness as he pressed on. "You can't be stupid enough to think that you can take the entire Naturalist forces by yourself!"

"Joshua!" Fletcher chided, grabbing the older man's sleeve in a desperate attempt to get his friend to heed his words. "We need to listen to him!! He's the soldier, not us--"

"Like hell I'm going to listen to this idiot!" Ed roared, gesturing wildly at Mustang and at the same time tugging his arm from the younger man's grasp. Something inside of Edward had snapped at the familiar recklessness being displayed by the General. He'd seen it so many times before and he felt the familiar rush of dread beginning to pool in the pit of his stomach. It was just like that day so many years ago…the day when Mustang had--

"_Joshua!" _

Fought with Scar because Edward had been too--

"_Josh!" _

Stubborn to listen to the then-Colonel, and because of him…Roy had nearly--

"Edward!"

Ed's head snapped up at the sound of his name. He realized in no small amount of shock that it had not been Mustang who had spoken, but Fletcher. The blonde teen had renewed his grip on Ed's arm and was attempting to tug him towards the woods that lined the back of the village, only a couple hundred feet from their current position. "Ed, come _on! _We have to get out of here before-"

And then the Naturalists were upon them. A group composed of no more than seven men enclosed around them, coming at the three men from all sides. Their guns were drawn and swords bared as they neared. In the blink of an eye Roy had the other two men behind him with one hand while the other was already poised to snap. The Naturalists began to close in, bearing down upon them in the space of time that it took to breathe. From behind Mustang's back Ed caught his first glimpse of the Naturalists and felt his blood run cold at the sight.

The Naturalists looked like nothing more than everyday men and women with nothing truly exceptional about their appearance, yet it was the pure hatred in their eyes that unnerved the brunette. Intent to kill was oozing from their very beings, intent that was in that moment directed at the very man that was currently acting as a shield for Ed and Fletcher. But it was not the Naturalists' hatred that had Ed, for the first time in years, feeling fear. It was that the look was mirrored in Roy's eyes.

In the blink of an eye the Flame Alchemist had erected a barrier of fire around them, allowing the flames to flare and encompass the charging Naturalists. His face remained emotionless as their screams began to pierce the air. Clearly death had little effect on the General now; the blank look in his eyes proved as much. He reminded Ed of a robot, doing nothing more than following his master's orders. _In a way, _Edward thought with mounting horror, _he is. _

The fire died down enough for the three men to gain a glimpse of the damage inflicted by Mustang's flame and both Fletcher and Ed gasped in utter horror upon seeing the Naturalists' charred remains. The Flame Alchemist, however, remained unfazed.

"_Now _will you listen to me?" He demanded. "Leave this place while you have the chance; reinforcements will arrive shortly."

"How can you--" Ed began angrily, grabbing the raven by his uniform collar and looking down his nose at the General. After seven years it appeared that Ed was finally taller than the other man. However, the brunette took little joy in the observation. "How can you act so _fucking _calm after you just _killed _someone?!" His face had now turned a furious crimson that nearly matched the ex-State Alchemist's trademark jacket. Despite the blonde's tirade, Roy's face was unchanging.

"Would you rather I were reduced to tears?" Mustang drawled in reply, staring up into golden eyes unflinchingly. Despite the sarcasm in his tone, the General's eyes betrayed the slightest traces of remorse. Ed did not miss this flicker of emotion in onyx eyes but it did little to put him at ease. "Yes!" The brunette hissed, bringing his face only inches from the other's. "At least then you would prove that you're not a monster!"

Mustang's eyes flashed in sudden anger. "Who's to say that I'm not?" One gloved hand rose to capture both of Ed's in his vice-like grasp, forcing the younger man to release his hold on Roy's collar. "If you think that you can show up after seven years and lecture me on how to be humane, you are sadly mistaken Edward Elric." Roy growled with such bitterness that it caught the other man by surprise.

Ed had not expected such a reaction from the other and he found himself at a loss for words upon facing this new side of the General. "Mustang…I--" He stammered, his hands going slack in the other man's grip.

"Watch out!" Mustang snarled as he grabbed the brunette into his arms, shielding the younger man's body with his own. Ed felt the Flame Alchemist's body tense as gunshots filled the air and began to rain down upon the trio that was currently rendered defenseless. Fletcher, who was also in the General's hold, cried out in terror as Roy's body jolted and a pained groan tore itself from his throat. The Flame Alchemist had been hit.

"Mustang!" Ed screamed, his anger quickly replaced by fear. His hands fisted in the material of the General's uniform as dread filled him. Beside him, he could hear Fletcher's terrified sobs. Ed didn't even realize that he had clenched his own eyes shut until they flew open upon hearing the older man's pained voice.

"Don't worry." Mustang grunted, releasing his hold on both men as he straightened. His onyx eyes remained void of emotion and he showed no visible signs of pain. "The bullet only grazed my arm." Even as the Flame Alchemist spoke he could feel Edward's golden eyes raking his form, but he did nothing to acknowledge the blonde's scrutiny.

The group of Naturalists swept down the hill and surrounded the three men. There were only five rebels, but they outnumbered the others regardless. In moments they had tightly encircled the militiaman and two civilians with their guns trained on the General. The man that appeared to be the leader of the small group stood directly before Mustang, his entire face hidden by the folds of the hood that covered his head.

"So I finally get the honor of meeting you, Roy Mustang." The Naturalist sneered. A gust of wind gave the others the slightest of glimpse of the man's eyes which appeared to reflect the fire that engulfed the buildings surrounding them. A closer look would reveal that it was in fact the man's eyes themselves that were such a fierce shade of crimson. "It appears the rumors were true; you really are something else. To stay behind and act as a decoy so that your men could make a safe retreat...such an act is either remarkably brave...or unbelievably foolish."

"I fear I must apologize," Roy returned with familiar sarcasm. "I didn't catch your name."

"I didn't give it." The hooded man replied easily. "Now you can either come with us without a fuss or you can do things the hard way and watch a us kill the civilians first." He paused for a moment, a low laugh coming from deep within his chest. "Then again, both options have the same outcome, so you don't have much of a choice on the matter."

With a nod from the hooded man two of the other Naturalists came at Roy from either side, grabbing the General's arms and pinning them behind his back. The raven haired alchemist did nothing to defend himself. As per the code of the State Militia, a civilian's life was of more importance than the life of a soldier, and when faced with such a situation a soldier was always to do what he could to ensure said civilian's safety. Even at the cost of their life.

"Don't be a dumbass, Mustang!" Ed snarled, appalled at how easily the other gave into the enemy's demands. Before he could step forth and interfere, however, the other rebel had restrained him. He struggled only to go completely still moments later at Fletcher's terrified cries.

"No!! Don't touch me-- please!" The teen screamed, thrashing heroically in his captor's hold as tears ran down his pale cheeks. "Please let me go!"

"Fletcher!" Ed cried, straining against the Naturalist's hold with all of his might to little avail. The brunette was quickly becoming frantic. "Don't you touch him, you son of a--"

"Let the kids go!" Mustang interrupted sharply, directing his most level look at the crimson eyed man. "They have nothing to do with any of this! They're nothing more than travelers--"

"Shut it, gramps!" The hooded man growled, stepping forward and taking hold of Mustang's wounded arm, digging his fingers into the open bullet wound. He smirked in satisfaction when the indifferent Alchemist threw back his head and hissed painfully, his knees nearly buckling under the sudden wave of pain. The move had been unexpected, and as such the General hadn't the time to steel himself for such an underhanded, but undeniably effective, move. The Naturalist delighted in this.

"Mustang!" Ed cried, unable to do anything more than to watch from within his captor's grasp.

Fletcher's cries had subsided, but the teen's silence was more frightening than his screams. Edward looked towards Fletcher to find the boy limp in the Naturalist's hold, apparently having resigned to his fate. His eyes had taken on a far off look that Ed himself had at one time seen each time he looked into a mirror. It was a look that belonged to a young man who had resigned himself to his fate. "Fletcher! Hang in there buddy!" Ed called weakly, ashamed at the way his own voice shook.

Let it be known that Roy Mustang was never a man to pass up an opportunity when it was presented to him. With the Naturalist's close proximity Roy could easily see the man's face with only the slightest tilt of his own head, and when he did so what he saw only served to confirm his suspicions. However he had little time to delight in his revelation, for only seconds later the Naturalist noticed what the General was doing. In one smooth movement the crimson eyed man pulled his hood closer around his face.

"You're an Ishballan."

The Naturalist's eyes narrowed dangerously as they fixed on Mustang, his contempt for the man clear. His gaze hardened as his fist connected with the General's cheek, causing Roy's head to snap to the side. A smirk was visible past the folds of the tan hood the Naturalist wore and the look was enough to cause a chill go down Ed's spine. From where the brunette stood captive, he could barely make out the man's features, but Ed guessed that he and the Naturalist were about the same age. He snapped out of his thoughts abruptly at the sound of Mustang's voice.

"You're that boy," Roy began, his dark eyes narrowing in recognition. Even in his current position it seemed as if the General was looking down on the Ishballan. It was amazing how, no matter the situation, Roy Mustang always seemed to look as if he was in the one in control. "the Ishballan kid that followed Scar after the Eastern Rebellion."

The man's silence was the only answer needed.

"I can't believe it." Ed breathed in horror-stricken disbelief. "_Rick_."

The Ishballan suddenly stepped away from Roy, his crimson eyes carefully kept impassive. Several strained moments passed before the three captives were roughly released with a nod from the man. He spoke again at length. "If you leave now I'm willing to forget that this encounter ever happened, but only if you are gone by the time that my reinforcements arrive. If that time comes and you're still here, then I will not act so mercifully."

Ed, unlike Roy, was never one to take an opportunity so easily. "Rick, it is you isn't it? What the hell do you think you're doing with these people?!" He rose to his feet, his eyes searching the other man. "Do you have any idea--"

"Time is dwindling. If you think that simply because you're a civilian you will be given special treatment, you are gravely mistaken."

Ed faltered at the icy tone of the other's voice. "Rick..." He pleaded. "Don't you recognize me?"

This earned the brunette a raised eyebrow from the Ishballan. "No. Should I?" Rick inquired frankly. His crimson eyes scanned the other's form skeptically but still he found nothing particularly jarring about the other man's appearance.

Ed visibly deflated. "You don't--"

"Edward, take the boy and go." Roy interrupted suddenly, in no mood to wait and watch this soap opera play out. Already the man was back on his feet with his fingers poised to snap and Fletcher tucked under his other arm. "You can reach the forest before the others come." The General held the brunette's gaze and added in a softer voice, "If not for yourself, then for him."

Ed finally turned his attention from the retreating Ishballan to the shivering form of his friend. His eyes softened and his jaw tightened as guilt washed over him. Fletcher looked terrified, and it was at least partially Ed's fault for putting him in this situation. Had it not been for the brunette's insistence that they stay and help Mustang (who, had Ed been honest with himself, did not need the brunette's "help" in the first place), then they could have already met up with Russell in the safe cover of the forest.

"Joshua...I m-mean E-Ed...can we just...go? Please?" Fletcher squeaked. Even though the boy was only a few years younger than Ed, Fletcher had never experienced the horrors of battle before. Some of the things that the pair had seen just when walking through the city had been enough to make even Ed's stomach turn. The smoke and blazing fire, the screams, the shouts, the sounds of cannon fire, the smell of sulfur and burning flesh, the blood that seemed to stain everything in sight... It was only logical that the teen would be so shaken. War had that effect on people.

Ed's eyes rose to Mustang's in a silent question, one which the General understood all too well.

"My wellbeing is none of your concern, Elric." The General rebuked firmly, though his tone was much too gentle to for his words. "Your only concern is for this boy." With that he nudged Fletcher towards the brunette, careful not to startle the blonde man.

As soon as Fletcher left the General's protective hold he threw himself at Edward, clinging to the brunette with all of his might. "Let's go Joshua!" He demanded, though his voice was far too shaky to hold any authoritive tone. In a much quieter voice, he added a hesitant 'please', as if trying to retain some semblance of dignity in his current state. Had Fletcher chanced a glance at the older man he would have seen Ed's sympathetic eyes and the brunette's slight nod.

"Alright." Ed aquiesqued softly, placing a hand on top of the teen's head reassuringly. His first and only priority was to get Fletcher out of Xenotime and out of harm's way. Ed lifted his gaze to meet the General's a final time. He felt a famliar tug in his lower stomach when his eyes met onyx and he couldn't help but to be somewhat pleased at the approving look he received for his decision. Ed was hesitant to leave the Flame Alchemist to whatever fate awaited him, but his need to protect Fletcher won out in the end. "Don't get yourself killed, General."

Roy's eyes showed the slightest hint of amusement, and it showed in his tone. "I'll try to keep that in mind."

Ed looked down at Fletcher, his eyes searching the younger man's. "I need you to listen to me Fletch. We have to get out of here so we can meet up with Russell, okay?" He spoke slowly just as he would to a frightened child. Really, that was exactly what Fletcher was in that moment; a frightened child. "But I'm going to need you to run. Can you do that?"

Fletcher nodded numbly, too far gone to be irritated at the childish manner in which the other was addressing him.

"Alright." Ed straightened and grabbed the boy's arm so not to lose him amidst the chaos of the battle. He was not suprised to see that the General's back was already facing them as Roy began his trek to meet the remaining Naturalist forces. Surrounded by the very element he commanded, the General was the perfect portrait of a War God; all strength and beauty and--

"Joshua, come on!"

Ed heeded the tugging on his hand and allowed Fletcher to pull him away with a final glance over his shoulder at the General. As the sounds of battle rose in volume the pair broke into a run, knowing that Mustang would not be able to hold the Naturalists at bay for long by himself. It seemed like an eternity before their legs finally carried them to the forest where they found an anxious Russell awaiting them. The older Tringham brother took one look at the pair and said nothing, understanding without words that this was not the time for questions. He lead them deeper into the shelter of the forest.

"Where are we heading?"

Russell glanced at Ed, his look grave. "There's a train station just past the hills lining the eastern border of the town. It's unlikely that the Naturalist have taken control of the railways yet."

"But where will we go?" Came Fletcher's weak voice. Though he had calmed down considerably when reunited with his brother, the teen was still deeply shaken.

Russell hesitated a moment. War had taken a firm hold on the country and only a handful of towns remained untouched by it's dark hand. Even these cities would not be sanctified for much longer, as had been proven with Xenotime. There was only one logical place that remained, a city that had declared itself Neutral and refused to play any part in the war. If there was a place that had a chance of withstanding the war, it was there. Russell chanced a discreet glance at Ed before answering.

"We're going to Resembool."

R-2-F

Author's Note: Well...where should I start? I guess the beginning is a good place, right? I'm _so _sorry that this took over a month to put out! I expected this chapter to be a breeze to write...but it wasn't. I rewrote it at least four times and I'm still uncertain whether or not I'm happy with it! Christmas has been hectic for me and I haven't had much of a chance to write, but I got a laptop for Christmas so hopefully this will give me incentive to update more often! It may take me a while to get back into the "groove" of writing and updating a fic regularly, but I hope you'll bear with me!

I appologize for any errors in this; my beta hasn't proofed this chapter yet but I wanted to go ahead and put it out. I'll have it fixed by the end of the week though.

Thanks to all of my faithful readers who have stuck with me! You guys mean the world to me!!

Until next time,

R2F


	3. No More Secrets

**Nothing Left to Give**

_Regret for the things we did can be tempered by time; _

_it is regret for the things we did not do that is inconsolable._

_-_Sydney J. Harris

**Chapter 3: No More Secrets**

R-2-F

It was nearly an hour after sundown when the three men finally boarded the train. As expected the train was packed full with the injured and refugees; what the trio had not expected was the panic and disorder that greeted them. Men and women frantically searched for family members they had been separated from them during the Naturalists' attack, as orphaned children wandered aimlessly throughout the halls, searching for parents that they could not seem to find. Others sat amidst strangers, silent in their grief for the loss of loved ones.

It was nauseating.

"Joshua, come on." Russell bade over his shoulder, his eyes belying that the blond was just as unsettled by the chaos surrounding them as his friend, despite the eldest Tringham's indifferent facade. "Fletcher found some seats over here."

Ed obediently trailed behind the blond but found he could not tear his eyes away from the chaos around him. His eyes fell upon one particular child who was so soot covered that you could not discern any of his features. The youth's angry gaze was directed at nothing in particular, but the look in his eyes was the same look that Ed had once seen in his own. The boy seemed to notice the older man's searching gaze, for his sharp eyes raised to meet gold.

"What are you lookin' at?" The boy demanded defensively.

Ed replied with a grim smile. "Nothing."

"Joshua!" Russell called again, this time a hint of irritability lining his voice. "Hurry up!" The blond was now well ahead of Ed and could barely be seen through the crowd. If Ed didn't hurry, he would completely lose sight of them. With that thought in mind Ed began to push his way through the crowd, rejoining the others in minutes. They sank into their seats as one, shoulder to shoulder in the crowded car.

The seat across from them was occupied by an old man and what appeared to be his grandson, if their similar looks were anything to go by. The pair looked more than a little worse for wear; the old man was covered in scrapes and burns and the boy was cradling a broken wrist against his chest. Ed knew without asking that the pair had not escaped before the Naturalists' attack fell.

The train began moving with a sudden lurch, causing many of the injured to cry out in pain at the unexpected shift. Ed watched through the window as the scenery began to pass by with increasing speed until everything had become a blur, but by then his mind was already miles away. Thoughts of a certain raven haired General plagued Ed. What if Mustang hadn't been able to handle such overwhelming numbers? What if the Naturalists had taken him as a Prisoner of War? Or worse? What if they had--

"Joshua?"

Not a day had gone by in the past seven years that the brunette had not thought of the raven haired alchemist, but to see him again under such circumstances had proved to be Ed's undoing. He had risked both his life and Fletcher's because he had been unwilling to leave Mustang's side. Had it not been for Rick's appearance, Ed could have gotten them both killed. The realization made it hard for Ed to look the other man in the eye."What?" He snapped irritably, his eyes narrowing in annoyance.

Russell's eyes flashed slightly at the older man's tone but the blond chose not to comment. There were more pressing matters at hand. "What happened?" He demanded lowly, unwilling to let another moment pass without knowing what had occurred in Xenotime that had unsettled the brunette so.

"What are you talking about?" Ed asked flatly, his gaze falling on his turned-flesh hand.

"You know damn well what I'm talking about." Russell growled in return, bending his head to look Ed straight in the eye. When the brunette continued to avoid the blond alchemist's gaze, things seemed to click into place for Russell. "…You saw _him_, didn't you?"

Russell felt Fletcher tense behind him but did not so much as spare his younger brother a glance. They had danced around this topic for seven years, and after recent events it had become clear that it could go on no longer like that. Finally, it was time for all the cards to be laid out on the table for the world to see.

Ed's head snapped up in surprise. "What?" He felt his breath catch in his throat. His logical half told he that there was no way that Russell knew exactly which '_him' _it was that they had encountered, yet Ed could not help but feel the slightest inkling of doubt rising within him. Did Russell know his secret?

"You know exactly who I'm talking about, don't you…Ed?"

R-2-F

"Get Major General Archer on the line _now._" Roy Mustang snarled as he stormed into the communications tent just after dusk. The Flame Alchemist's clothes were tattered and torn and his skin was caked with soot and blood, giving him an aura that could be best described as feral. Despite his disheveled state it was not the raven's appearance that stood out the most, but the angry flashing of his onyx eyes. The General fixed his smoldering gaze on the Head of Communications officer and watched as the smaller man clumsily rose, somehow managing to tangle himself in the wires surrounding him in his haste.

"G-General Mustang!" Cain Feury stammered, blinking sheepishly from the disarray of wires now entangled around his form. He struggled to raise his arm to salute his commanding officer but managed only a small wave. The mousy Sergeant Major's glasses slid down his nose as he stilled suddenly in his struggles to free himself as he took a good look at his friend and superior's appearance. "S-sir!" He stammered, his eyes appearing much larger than usual without his glasses framing them. "None of that bl-blood is yours, i-is it?"

The General ignored his subordinate's concern. "Now, Cain."

"Sir!" The smaller man squeaked in reply, somehow managing to step away from the tangle of wires and turn to the other two members of the communications team. He nervously tugged at the collar of his uniform and cleared his throat as he made an attempt at sounding stern. "You heard the General! Establish a secure connection with Central Headquarters immediately! Get Major General Archer on the line!"

"Yes, Sergeant Major!" The two other men chorused.

Feury nodded in satisfaction as the two younger men set off to do the task assigned to them and reclaimed his own seat in the center of the switchboard. The mousy Sergeant's fingers flew across the switches and knobs on the board, adjusting them this way and that until he was satisfied. It was always an interesting thing to see Feury in his element.

"Establishing a connection between Base 4-0-2 and Central Headquarters. Authorization code 2-0-0-8-0-5-1. Connection confirmed. Line secure. Now establishing direct connection with Major General Frank Archer." Feury nodded, seemingly satisfied and nodded towards the phone that still rested in it's cradle beneath the General's hand. "Connection authorized."

Mustang nodded and lifted the phone to his ear, his eyes immediately flashing. " This is Brigadier General Roy Mustang." He stated in a clipped voice, his hand squeezing the phone's handle viciously. There was a moment's pause before the General spoke again without an ounce of formality in his tone. "What the _hell_ happened, Archer?"

Another several seconds of silence.

"You know damn well what I'm talking about." Roy growled, his eyes narrowed and fixed on a random spot before him. There was a dangerous set in the General's jaw that kept any of the other occupants of the communications tent from making noise of any kind. "My entire unit was nearly wiped out because of your negligence! You ignored the request for backup and in doing so single handedly compromised the entire mission." The General's fist suddenly slammed down on the desk with enough force that it caused the entire table to tremble beneath the blow. "Of course we didn't complete the mission! Doing so would have been nothing less than suicidal."

Everyone present heard the Major General's reply, but none of them were willing to believe that they had heard him right. That is until Mustang's enraged response proved them correct in their assumptions.

"You bastard." Roy hissed, clutching the phone tight enough that the plastic cracked beneath his hold. Before he could get another word in the man on the other end of line was speaking once again, his voice as cool and in control as ever. This only served to sever the General's already fragile nerves even further, but he continued to listen in silence for several moments. It sounded as if the General was receiving new orders. "...Very well." He replied reluctantly, his voice still holding a sharp edge to it.

The three other occupants of the tent all jumped as the enraged General slammed the phone back into it's cradle with enough force to break the contraption as if it were nothing more than a twig. His shoulders heaved as Mustang fought valiantly to regain control of his raging emotions. The others in the tent awaited with baited breath for the raven to speak again with a sense of increasing dread.

"Start packing. We leave at sunrise."

Feury sputtered in response, rising from his seat and gaping at his friend. "So soon? But we haven't even had time to regroup--"

"I'm blindingly aware of this, Sergeant. However, orders are orders." Mustang interrupted shortly, running a hand through his hair and only causing it to look even more disorderly than before. The weariness in the General's eyes stood out even more acutely now and an almost defeated aura hung about him. Even as he began to move towards the opening in the tent flap his movements were sluggish at best and it seemed as if will alone was keeping him standing. The conversation with the Major General had taken the last ounce of strength from the Flame Alchemist.

Feury dropped his eyes and shuffled his feet. "And what _are _our orders, General?"

Roy paused, holding the tent flap open with one hand but not stepping through the opening just yet. A brief moment of silence passed where it seemed as if the Flame Alchemist was considering his words. "We're to head to Western Headquarters first thing tomorrow morning to collect the new recruits." He trailed off and his scowl darkened. "Then we're to head to Drachma."

"But sir!" One of the other communications officers exclaimed. "They're sending us to the front lines?"

Roy ducked through the tent flap without offering any further answers, but that was enough of an answer in itself

R-2-F

"So you knew all along but didn't say anything."

The three men now sat with a heavy veil of silence hanging in the air about them. Ed sat in the corner next to the window and Fletcher beside him, with Russel sitting across from the pair and next to the old man and his granddaughter, both of who were fast asleep despite the nearly suffocating anxiety that filled the compartment. The tension was thick enough it seemed it could be easily cut with a knife, yet there was not even a hint of hostility evident in any of the three men.

"Basically." Russell conceded without so much as a hint of remorse.

Fletcher was quick to cut in and fulfill his self-appointed role of peacemaker. The youngest Tringham was never able to stand it when the older two men fought and when such an occasion _did _arise the young blond was always quick to step between the pair. "--But we didn't want to say anything!" He insisted, desperate to plead their case. "We knew that something bad had happened back at Central, we just didn't know the details! But...we couldn't believe..." The blond faltered, fumbling on his words as he searched to find the right wording. "that General Mustang would betray the state--"

Ed shot out of his seat so fast that it scared the three men, including himself. "Mustang didn't betray anyone!" He snarled as his hands curled into fists at his side. The anguished conviction in his voice was more than enough to silence anything that the others might have said. Tears welled in golden eyes but they refused to spill. "The real traitor...was the Fuhrer." He whispered at length, his voice breaking painfully. "Bradley wanted Mustang out of the way because he was too smart to blindly follow orders. He--" The brunette's tirade abruptly came to a halt as he seemed to choke on his words. "He...he was trying to protect me."

Neither brother could think of anything to say as the brunette fell bonelessly back into his seat. Silence once again filled the compartment, though this time it was borne of something much more sinister. Both brothers knew that they were on the brink of learning the truth about what happened seven years ago that had so totally and completely destroyed the man they had once known as Edward Elric. Despite this, it would be a lie if either blond said they didn't dread hearing the truth.

"What happened, Ed?" Russell finally asked, his usually gruff voice uncharacteristically soft.

"It all seems like it happened a lifetime ago." Ed chuckled hollowly. "Me and Al were assigned to look into rumors about a Philosopher's Stone in Xing, and as usual it turned out to be a false lead. When we arrived at HQ we found the base being attacked by Scar. I...ignored orders and stuck around; Mustang told us to get the hell out of there, but I was too hard headed to listen. I..." The brunette trailed off painfully, a hand raising to cover his face. "I d-distracted him and g-gave Scar an opening. He transmuted the General's leg."

Both brothers gasped in surprise at this. They both had heard tales of the feared IshballianAlchemist's techniques. It caused their stomachs to turn painfully, but it was nothing compared to the raw pain that was present on Ed's face as he recalled the encounter.

"Mustang managed to defeat Scar, but it put him in a coma. He stayed that way for nearly seven months." The blonde's eyes had taken on a haunted gleam. "When he finally woke up he couldn't remember anything after the Eastern Rebellion. But...but at the same time as all of this was happening...the war with Drachma was just beginning. With the General out of commission Bradley had free reign. He sent regiment after regiment to Drachma without explanation. You heard the rumors; men disappeared by the dozen there each day without a trace. Nearly half of the soldiers the State sent to that country wound up dead or missing without any evident cause. It was obvious that the Fuhrer was up to something...that he had something up his sleeve." Ed paused, frowning thoughtfully. He ran a hand absentmindedly through his hair, seeming surprised to find it as short as it was. It seemed the brunette had nearly lost himself in the past.

"I can't say when it started, but Mustang started to get suspicious. He was slowly regaining his memories as the weeks went by and he returned to duty after only a few weeks leave. After that everything went downhill."

Fletcher frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Bradley planned to send me and Al to Drachma." Ed whispered, his voice thickly laced with anguish. "He gave Mustang the orders...but that..._idiot_...he sent us on another mission. Mustang defied orders to save my ass and in doing so put his own on the line. He was already on dangerous ground with Bradley, and that was the last straw. The Fuhrer had him sentenced to death on charge of treason."

Russell's eyes were narrowed in understanding. "So that's what it was." He nodded, seeming to think the brunette's words over. "It explains a lot; the General didn't seem like the kind of person to throw away his career so easily." He met Ed's eyes meaningfully. "Unless it was for the person who's life he va awoke at the sudden noise but said nothing, a knowing look entering his tired eyes. He held hilued more than his own."

Ed's breath caught.

"Al kept in touch with us after you guys left." Fletcher supplied quietly. "He told us about the General's relationship with you." The youngest blond gave a weak smile. "I was so happy to find out you'd finally found a bit of happiness, Ed."

The sound of his brother's name caught Ed off guard, and a fresh wave of tears welled in his eyes. A hand flew to his mouth as he struggled to fight off the sudden tidal wave of emotions that flooded his senses. Just hearing Alphonse's name was enough to cause the brunette's heart to stop. Not once in the past seven years had Ed allowed himself to so much as think about his brother.

Fletcher and Russell looked at each other in panic, neither knowing what they had said wrong. Fletcher felt tears of his own welling in his eyes as he watched his older brother grab Ed by the shoulders and pull him in an awkward hug. Russell looked over his friend's bent head at Fletcher as he fought to keep the brunette in his hold as Ed tried to shove the younger man away.

"Ed, what's wrong??" Russell demanded as he fought to control the older man's thrashing.

The sudden noise had awoken the other two occupants of the compartment. The elderly man looked at Ed for a long moment before he locked eyes with Fletcher in silent understanding. He knew the look in the distraught man's eyes well enough to sympathize. It was a look of utter grief and misery; a look that could only belong to someone who had lost everything he once held dear.

Ed went suddenly limp in Russell's hold, shocking the blond by burying his face in Russell's soiled shirt. The brunette's hands fisted in the fabric of the shirt desperately, as if attempting to reassure himself that the younger man was still there. Russell could feel wetness creeping into the material against his chest and was shocked to realize that the older man was actually crying.

"He's gone." Ed whimpered pathetically, tightening his hold on Russell's shirt. "Al's gone."

And with those four words, everything clicked.

R-2-F

When Roy reached his tent it was to find it already occupied by two other soldiers. The General did nothing to acknowledge the pair's presence as he dropped onto his sleeping mat unceremoniously and began to pry off his boots. He grimaced as his aching muscles protested the motion but still he managed to get both shoes off before collapsing into a heap. As soon as his head had touched the ground, Roy's eyed drifted shut on their own accord to claim some much needed rest.

"You look like hell, Commander."

Roy groaned at that familiar drawl. "Go to hell, Jean." He growled, clenching his eyes shut stubbornly. He felt someone kneel next to him moments before he felt a cool hand pressed against his forehead; a hand that most definitely did not belong to Havoc. Reluctantly, he cracked open his eyes to meet the worried gaze of Riza Havoc.

"General," Riza said softly as her eyes took in the other's appearance. Worry etched her every feature but it was clear the First Lieutenant was making a conscious effort to not suffocate the other. "we have to get your wounds dressed before you sleep." She glanced at Jean to find the Second Lieutenant already crouched beside her with a change of clothes.

With the aid of the other two Roy was able to once again sink into his bedding only moments later, this time dressed in much cleaner clothing. The General could not suppress a sigh of relief as his head hit the make-shift pillow made of his uniform jacket. Still, he found he couldn't relax completely due to the other two watching him so intently.

"I'm fine." He growled without opening his eyes to look at them.

"No, you're not." Riza scowled. "You're malnourished, you're exhausted, _and_ you're injured." The blond Lieutenant would be lying if she claimed not to gain a bit of satisfaction at the other's grimace. "You're anything _but_ fine."

"And so are half of my men." Roy sat up painfully to meet the other's gaze evenly. "Most of them are even worse off than I am."

Neither Jean nor Riza could deny this, and neither attempted to do so. Instead, Jean chose an attempt at changing the conversation. "The mail finally got here." He said in a forcefully cheerful tone. "It only took them three weeks, but who am I to complain?" He chuckled dryly as he reached inside of his uniform coat to retrieve a letter and held it out to the older man. "This came for you."

Roy eyed the letter but made no move to take it.

"It's from Emma."

Roy visibly stiffened at the sound of that name but still did not take the letter. Instead, he laid back down and turned so that his back was facing the other two in quiet dismissal. He heard Hawkeye's sigh and grimaced guiltily. He didn't mean to cause her to worry so much but it seemed that was all he could do as of late. The battle had been hard on all of them and his friends needed rest as much as any of them.

"...Get some rest." He said at length, shifting uncomfortably on the threadbare blanket.

"You can't avoid her forever, Roy." Riza replied sternly as she rose from her crouching position. "She loves you... and I know that you love her just as much."

Roy's gaze darkened.

"No one can love a killer."

R-2-F

Author's Note: So...hi. I'm sorry about this taking so long to put out, but this is the quickest I could get an update up. Between work and school I've been a bit crazed, and I'm still tweaking the plot a bit here and there. I'm not going to make any promises about getting out updates any quicker, but I will work my hardest.

So I bet right about now half of you are ready to kill this Emma girl. Am I right? Just wait..you'll meet her eventually! Poor Ed...I put that kid through so much angst, but it's nothing compared to what I do to Roy!! Have you noticed that? I've noticed that...

Thanks to all of you who have stuck with me! Thirty reviews in two chapters? That's pretty kick ass, I must say.

Happy Valentines Day everyone!!

Till next time!!

R2R


	4. Rest in Pieces

**Nothing Left to Give **

_One of the most difficult things anyone has to learn_

_Is that for your entire life you must keep fighting _

_And adjusting if you hope to survive. _

_No matter who you are or what your position is, _

_You must keep fighting for whatever it is you desire to achieve. _

_-_George Allen

**Chapter 4: Rest in Pieces**

R-2-F

"I can't do this."

Russell sighed in exasperation as he gave his brunette friend a none too gentle nudge from behind. "You _can _and you _will._" He responded easily for what seemed like the millionth time. They'd been at it like this since the train had neared Resembool almost a half hour ago. After much persuading the brothers had finally managed to get Ed to the train exit, but once there the older man froze and had refused to take another step. "Now get a move on!"

"No! You don't understand," Ed pleaded, gripping either side of the door frame desperately. He even went so far as to brace his legs on the frames as well. The ex-State Alchemist chanced a pleading glance over his shoulder. "Winry'll kill me if she finds out I'm in town! And Pinako..." The man trailed off, his face contorting in a look of utter horror before his efforts began anew with even more desperation. "No! I can't do it-- I won't! I'm too young to die!"

Fletched looked nervously over his shoulder at the other passengers waiting to disembark the train. The glowers the trio was receiving was enough to spur even the docile blond into action. "Come on, Ed!" He joined his brother in his efforts to detach the older brunette from the doorway. _"Please!" _He added in a shrill whisper. _"You're making a scene!" _

Russell was finally fed up. "Oh, enough of this!" He exclaimed. In one smooth movement the eldest Tringham lifted his foot and kicked the frantic alchemist in the small of his back, sending the brunette sprawling on the train platform. Russell didn't so much as try to look apologetic as he gracefully descended the stairs. In fact, he wore a triumphant smirk. "See, now was that so bad?"

Ed sputtered indignantly as he struggled to right himself. He glared daggers at the brothers as they stood before him without offering any sort of apology for their actions. In fact, Fletcher looked as if he wanted to laugh at the brunette's expense but was valiantly refraining. "Go ahead and laugh." Ed spat bitterly as he scrambled to his feet, straightening his jacket indignantly. "But you don't know what it's like."

"Of course not." Russell conceded sarcastically. "Because stealing other people's identities and poisoning a town only to be exposed as frauds and having to face a town full of angry villagers is _so _much easier."

Ed had the decency to look properly abashed. He lowered his gaze to the ground where he shuffled his feet guiltily. "I guess I _am _being a bit ridiculous about this, huh?" He admitted at length, peeking up from the cover his bangs at the other two.

The brothers laughed, Russell reaching over and mussing the older man's hair. "You could say that." He and Fletcher shared a laugh, both wearing identical grins. "But I think we're pretty much used to you being ridiculous by now." He laughed heartily at the brunette's answering punch which he caught with practiced ease. He pulled Ed into a headlock and once again mussed his hair so that it stuck in every direction.

Ed laughed as he squirmed to get away from the younger man's hold. The trio appeared ignorant of the looks they were getting from the other passengers. Unlike when they were on the train, the three's antics drew fond looks from those surrounding them. Even the train conductors looked at the three with smiles, shaking their head and chuckling at their display. It was a reminder that it was okay to laugh even in the darkest of times, one that they all needed from time to time.

"Come on." Russell said at length, releasing his hold on Ed. His eyes scanned the thinning crowd. "We need to see if we can find a taxi."

"But where will we go?" Fletcher inquired worriedly. "We don't have enough money for an inn..."

"We'll find something." Russell said firmly, casting Ed a pointed look. The rest of his sentence was left unsaid, though the brunette heard it loud and clear. _"We'll find something...or someone." _

R-2-F

"I always hated train rides."

Roy looked up at the sound of his companion's voice, blinking to dispel his temporary daze. He sighed as he turned his gaze back to the window next to him, watching the other man through his reflection in the glass. "And why is that?" He asked disinterestedly, propping his chin up with the palm of his hand. He sighed heavily which caused his bangs to flutter momentarily before settling once again.

Jean Havoc shrugged, taking another drag from his cigarette. He idly watched the smoke drift from the tip of the cancer stick and dissipate into the air. "Never really gave it much thought." He admitted indifferently. His blue eyes flickered over to the man. "Just one of those unconscious things, I guess."

"So it would seem." Roy snapped in annoyance. The man had done this for the past two hours; making pointless observations for no other purpose than to keep the General awake. "And annoying the hell out of your superior officers, is that one of your "unconscious things" as well?"

Havoc grinned, balancing his cigarette in the corner of his mouth with ease. "Not at all, Commander; that's purely intentional."

Before Roy could lunge at his subordinate the compartment door slid open and in stepped two other officers, both looking tired and spread thin. One took a seat next to him while the other sat next to Jean in the seat facing his.

"Are you trying to get the General to burn you to a crisp again, Jean?" Riza demanded wearily from her place beside her husband. She shot the blond a withering look as she situated herself, crossing her arms and slumping in the train seat.

"Of course not." Jean answered easily as he draped his arm around Riza's shoulders. He used his free hand to snuff out his cigarette on the wall next to him, earing the blond a glare from the other three occupants. "I'm just trying to make conversation."

"Pointless conversation, I'm sure." The fourth member of the party added dryly. He sat with as much room between himself and the General as possible, but due to his large size the space was limited. Armstrong's blue eyes regarded the others carefully, taking note of the stress present on all of their faces. Not one of them had gotten so much as a wink of sleep the night before and even now, in the safety of the train compartments, sleep refused to come to the weary soldiers. Armstrong could not recall the last time he had allowed himself the luxury of a full night's rest.

Yet another unsavory side effect of war.

Silence began to fall upon the four soldiers, however it did not last for long. Jean was never one to allow a silence to last for any extended period of time; some saw it as one of his curious quirks, but those who knew him best knew it was nothing more than a defense mechanism. It was Jean Havoc's way of keeping himself from being alone with his thoughts—of keeping sane. "So what of these new troops?" He inquired loftily, though there was darker meanings behind his words. "Heard any rumors?"

The silent question went unasked. _Will they last any longer than the rest of them?_

Roy caught the words left unspoken. He tore his gaze from the raindrop stained glass to meet his subordinate's eyes. "No...I haven't heard anything." He said evenly. "Take that as you will."

The dangerous tone of his superior did nothing to deter Jean. "You mean try not to get attached to any of them." He reiterated without so much as batting an eye. He felt Riza stiffen in his hold but did not turn his gaze from the General. They all knew good and well that past recruits had not lasted for long. Their training had been poor and they had not been nearly ready to see battle. The recruits had never stood a chance against the Naturalists' unyielding brutality.

"That's exactly what I mean." Roy responded icily. His gaze had become hard and distant, a look that had become all too common in the past several years. Though it had not actually begun to materialize until the first signs of war began to surface, the carefully placed distance in the Flame Alchemist's gaze had started to form after the day Edward Elric had disappeared. Over time the icy facade of indifference had replaced the General's once-signature cocky smirk, until the time eventually came that it was the only look one ever saw on Roy Mustang's countenance. The expression was yet another painful reminder of the events that had happened all those years ago...the events that had forever changed the lives of all involved.

Yes, it marked the day that the Fullmetal had disappeared forever, but it also served as a momento of the day that the man known as Roy Mustang, the infamous Flame Alchemist and the man that had singlehandedly taken on the entirety of the State militia, had begun to die. Not in the physical sense, as had nearly been the case, but in a more spiritual sense. It was common knowledge that Roy had never been the same sense Edward Elric had deserted.

Havoc finally broke the eye contact between himself and the now angry General and allowed his gaze to fall to his lap. Whenever Roy gave him that look it was always enough to make the Second Lieutenant back down. No matter how important his cause, Havoc just couldn't stand to see that look in Mustang's eyes. He swallowed hard, working to get his nerve back and at the same time trying to find a much less head-on approach to the topic of the new recruits.

"I've been thinking," Jean began slowly, his eyes remaining glued stubbornly to his lap. "And I've come to the conclusion that there's gotta be something that we can do to help them."

"And what are you suggesting, Lieutenant?" Roy demanded, his voice one of cold indifference.

"I'm not exactly sure. I know that we're restricted on time, but maybe we can train the recruits a bit more before we send them into battle? I'm not talking a full-out training camp here, just a quick run-down of the techniques that could help 'em out in a real fight, y'know?"

The other three in the compartment all shared looks of reluctant agreeance.

"It does seem to be the most logical path to take, though far from the easiest." Armstrong consented warily, his arm muscles flexing beneath the sleeves of his uniform as he clenched and unclenched his fists in thought. The blond Alchemist's eyes were narrowed in concentration as he stared at a random spot on the floor, his gaze so intent that it seemed as if he was waiting for some sort of answer to appear before his very eyes.

"That's an understatement." Roy said dryly, his eyes turning back to regard the passing scenery disinterestedly. "Training new recruits can take weeks and at present we don't have the time, the manpower, nor the energy to take on something of that nature."

"So we're just going to sit back and watch while our boys get killed?"

"You're out of line, Lieutenant."

Havoc rose from his seat, standing before his superior officer and glaring down his nose at the other man. "I don't give a damn whether I'm out of line or not, Roy!" He growled, his hands clenching into fists at his sides with enough force that the blond's arms shook. "You might not give a shit whether their blood's on your hands or not, but I sure as hell do!"

"Jean!" Riza admonished sharply, standing as well and grabbing her husband forcefully by the arm. The woman's look was purely murderous as she stared down the taller man beside her. The look from his wife appeared to be enough to return Havoc to his senses, but it was too late. The damage had already been done.

Roy sat stock still in the train seat, his horrified gaze falling to his uncovered hands. The General's eyes had widened as if he was reliving a nightmare before the eyes of the others, and all three officers present knew that was exactly what was happening. All color seemed to drain from his face in the space of an instant and Roy's hands began to shake, the tremors slowly working their way through his body until his entire form was visibly trembling.

"Shit!" Jean exclaimed, realizing that his thoughtless words had triggered one of the General's attacks. He was beside Roy in seconds and gathered his friend's trembling form into his arms. Havoc felt Armstrong rise from the seat and saw him move to retrieve a medicine bottle from Mustang's traveling case as Riza quickly took the other's vacated seat.

"Roy, listen to me." Riza commanded as she took the raven's hands tightly in her own. "It wasn't your fault. _None _of this is your fault." Her words seemed like a mantra, one that the First Lieutenant had found herself repeating countless times over months past. However, no matter how many times these attacks occurred, seeing the General as vulnerable as he looked at that moment always broke Riza's heart. "It's not your fault."

Roy sat in Jean's embrace as if he didn't even notice the other man's presence. He leaned forward and covered his ears with his hands and shut his eyes tightly, though no one knew whether he was trying to will away Riza's words or the thoughts that were undoubtedly consuming his mind. The pain on the raven's face was evidence to the internal battle that he was waging with himself. The battle that he was more than likely losing.

Armstrong returned to the trio with an outstretched hand that held two small pills. The Colonel's face was a mask of indifference as he stood there, silently offering his commanding officer the only reprieve that he could possibly give the man, but Armstrong's soft gaze gave away his own worry for his friend. "Here," His deep voice bade softly. "Take these and it will all go away."

Roy's hands shook as he took the offered medicine and quickly swallowed them dry. His entire body shuddered at the taste that lingered in his mouth, but the effects of the pills were nearly instantaneous. The tremors that wracked his body began to lessen and soon Roy's entire body slumped against Havoc. The raven's eyelids grew heavy as the full affects of the medicine kicked in and only a moment later Mustang was out cold.

From his place beside his mercifully slumbering friend Jean sighed heavily, reaching the hand that the General was not leaning against up and scrubbing at his eyes. The craving for a cigarette had grown nearly unbearable in the last twenty or so minutes and Mustang's most recent attack had only intensified that need. However, as Roy's dead weight now fully rested against Havoc's side there was no way that the Second Lieutenant would be able to soothe his need for nicotine anytime soon.

In Jean's mind he deserved much more for being the cause of his friend's breakdown.

R-2-F

"This place hasn't changed at all!" Ed exclaimed as they traversed the streets of Resembool, the brothers not far behind him. The brunette increased his pace in excitement as he pointed to a building to their left. "That's the butcher's shop the old bat Nagihisa owned. She was always had something up her ass! Anytime she saw me and Al she'd run us out of the store with a broomstick! I mean, sure, we may have stolen some stuff once or twice, but still-"

Fletcher laughed softly as the hyperactive man pointed to a different building and proceeded to recall some tale or another that involved the brunette and Al's relationship with the owner, complete with wild gestures and excited babble. It continued on this way for quite some time until the buildings became fewer and fewer in numbers. These houses Ed didn't have much to say concerning; most were neighbors that the boys had never interacted much with or widows who were seldom seen around town. However, there was something different about these buildings than the rest that Fletcher noticed. It seemed that the further away from the heart of the town the trio grew, the more rundown the buildings became.

The blond's brow burrowed into a worried frown.

"And just over this hill's..." Ed trailed off, his pace slowing until he fell back into step between the brothers, suddenly subdued. His eyes dropped to his shoes as they walked. "...The Rockbell's."

Russell shot the brunette a sharp glance that held barely concealed concern. As they began to climb the hill it seemed as if Ed's legs grew heavier and heavier as his pace slowed gradually. Upon cresting the hill the young Elric came to a complete stop causing Russell and Fletcher to nearly bump into him at the sudden halt.

"...Ed?" Fletcher inquired softly, reaching out and hesitantly placing a hand on the older man's shoulder. He flinched away when the touch was harshly shouldered off, holding his hand to his chest as if wounded. The blond's eyes fell to the ground as tears welled unbidden, though they were stubbornly fought back by the youngest Tringham.

"Elric." Russell snapped warningly as he placed a reassuring arm around his younger brother's shoulders, his eyes flashing at the older man. Though Russell fully understood what Ed was going through right now, the blond refused to condone such a selfish attitude. Such a thing may once have been trademark to Edward Elric, but that was a thing of the past that was better left there.

Ed offered no verbal apology, instead giving Russell what he hoped was a reassuring smile before he turned his gaze back to the house before him. However, the sight that greeted him was not at all what the blond ex-alchemist had expected.

The house was barely recognizable in it's current state of disarray. The paint was peeling to a ridiculous extent and the wood that it revealed was practically rotten with decay. In several places the roof of the house had caved in, leaving gaping holes in the roof that were left untended. Many of the windows had been busted out and shards of glass littered the ground surrounding each of them, the shattered glass that remained in the window frames nearly brown in color from all of the collected dust. Even the frame of the house had begun to sag.

Ed couldn't believe what he was seeing.

"Winry?" He called, running towards the decaying house with a sudden burst of desperation. His legs carried him around the side of the house to the back porch where he had so often seen Winry sitting outside and reading with Den at her side, but even there no sign of life was evident. Ed's panic began to mount as he continued to shout out his childhood's friend name.

"You won't find Dr. Rockbell there, sonny." A voice suddenly spoke up, freezing Edward in his tracks. Slowly the blond turned to find an old man standing on the side of the road, leaning heavily on his walking stick as he regarded the three younger men carefully. "The doctor hasn't lived there for a long, long time."

"Uh, no sir, I'm not looking for Dr. Rockbell. I'm actually looking for their daughter, Winry." Ed explained with a strained smile.

"I know good and well who Winry Rockbell is, boy." The man snapped back not unkindly, taking several pained steps forward as he hobbled his way over to Ed. The man had stringy gray hair that didn't appear to have been washed in months and his skin was dark with dirt, but he held an air about him that reminded the other three of a man who once held the respect of many people. However, like so many others, the war had clearly not treated him kindly. "Like I said, the doctor doesn't live here any longer. She's moved to the hospital with the rest of the workers."

"Doctor..?" Ed repeated, amazed.

The old man nodded. "Yep, and the best damned one this town's ever seen at that. Who knows where we'd be if it wasn't for the miracles she's worked."

Momentarily stunned into silence, Ed stared at the old man in unmasked amazement for the space of many heartbeats. Winry, a doctor? The possibility seemed completely unreal. Ed knew that he would have to confirm this man's words himself, and with that thought in mind he turned his determined gaze to meet Russel's. He received a silent nod from the younger man, and that was all the answer that the ex-alchemist needed.

Ed turned determined eyes to meet those of the old man, the intensity the other saw reflected in those golden depths visibly startling the civilian.

"Take me to the hospital."

R-2-F

Author's Note: Okay...so this chapter took WAY longer to put out than I could ever have expected. It seems that once I finally finished the FMA series I went into a bit of a depression where the show is concerned; I mean...it's OVER! Wah! What am I supposed to do now:(

And then I kinda forgot about it.

So I'm sorry that it took so long to get this chapter up, but I can honestly say that I'm going to try and work harder to get another update out sometime SOON...I hope. I hope that it was worth the wait!


	5. All That I'm Living For

**Nothing Left to Give**

**Author's Note: **Okay, so I finally set myself down and forced myself to start writing again. It seems I've been suffering from Procrastinator's Disease or something, but luckily it seems to have (for the moment) passed. We'll see how long it lasts this time, ne?

_Hope is both the easiest and most indispensable _

_Virtue inherent in the state of being alive. _

_If life is to be sustained hope must remain, _

_Even where confidence is wounded, _

_Trust impaired. _

-Erik H. Erikson

**Chapter 5: All That I'm Living For**

"At ease, soldiers."

The forty men regiment all fell to said position, their chests puffed out and their arms folded behind their rigid backs. All eyes stared straight ahead in the presence of their new Commanding officer as the new recruits sought to impress the acclaimed militiaman with their newly learned skills. To the regiment's right stood their Training officer, the man who was singlehandedly responsible for overseeing every aspect of their conditioning. The Trainer's heavy gaze could be felt by every man that stood stiffly in line, each recruit knowing that any error on their behalf would reflect badly upon their training officer. It was for this reason that every man was on their best behavior.

Or at least, that _was _the reason.

Upon setting sights on the man that would now be their commander the recruits had felt a knew kind of fear, one that even their Training Commander had not been able to instill upon them. Just one look at the newcomer could tell a man that the Commander was nothing like any other man that the recruits had met. He had an air of danger around him and his stance was that of a man who was very confident in both himself and his abilities. The eye patch that covered the Commander's left eye gave him a dangerous edge that intrigued many of the younger men, but it was the look in the man's eye that shook the recruits to their very core.

It was the look of a man who had looked death in the eye countless times-- a man who had witnessed firsthand the gruesome atrocities of war. The emotionless, detached gaze that the Commander held forced the younger men to fight the urge to squirm when directed under it's intensity. The very presence of the older officer caused an air of foreboding to fall across the recruits.

And all of that was _before _he began to speak.

"I guess that introductions are in order." The newcomer spoke at length as he began to slowly walk down the line of assembled soldiers, his gaze not so much as straying to the men as he passed them. "For those of you who don't know, my name is Roy Mustang-- You may call me General. Nothing else." He paused as he reached the end of the line, turning on his heel and actually allowing his one-eyed gaze to shift to the soldier nearest him. "I'm not your savior, nor am I your friend. I am your Commanding Officer and soon to be your one way ticked to hell. As you well know your training has come to an end and to the State that means that you're ready to be sent to battle."

Not a soul missed the derisive tone in the General's words, though none dared to comment on it.

"Thus far I've found that the State has their heads too far up their asses to think straight, but I hope you men prove to be the exception to this pattern." His eye lingered on a particularly small teen that was visibly trembling under the older man's gaze. Mustang shook his head before moving on, his signature smirk firmly in place though the expression had become much darker over past years, having morphed into something that closely resembled a sneer. "I doubt you will."

"Our orders are to make way to Drachma immediately to join our comrades on the front line. As you well know, Drachma is the heart of the enemy territory and the Naturalists' current base of operations. In all reality the chance of our survival is slim." The wide eyes of the new recruits finally drew the General's attention and he allowed a grim smile.

"Over the years I've found that it's best to get straight to the point with new recruits. I won't fill your heads with false ideas or hopes, but I _will _tell you this; Know that I will do all within my power to make sure that you survive the oncoming battles. Causalities are an inevitable side effect of war, but they are a side effect that I will do all I can to prevent. I won't hesitate to sacrifice my life to save any one of yours. I hope you will do the same for your comrades. Prepare to move out, we leave within the hour."

Mustang nodded dismissively and then turned to rejoin the small group of officers that had accompanied him. He heard the Training Commander begin to issue his final orders and farewells to the young soldiers but did not register a word that the man was saying. Instead he turned his attention to the Lieutenant closest to him, meeting Jean's gaze with his own. The General felt a small tug of satisfaction at seeing the approving look he received from his friend. Though it was painstakingly clear to all who knew Mustang that the alchemist was firmly building a wall between himself and the new recruits to avoid attachment, it was also obvious that he was making a genuine effort to keep the troops down to earth and well informed.

In current times, those two simple things could be enough to save a man's life.

"Nicely said, Commander."

Roy did not acknowledge Jean's words accept for with a nearly imperceptible nod of his head. The General's thoughts had begun to drift without conscious effort to the early days of the war, no doubt as a result of the small breakdown he had suffered through the night before. The affect was almost immediate; Roy's body stiffened visibly and his single working eye focused on a faraway spot, darkening to the deepest shade of onyx as he became immersed in memories that were best left in the past.

The others noticed the change almost immediately and moved as one to startle the General from his trance. They had witnessed the change undergo Mustang far too many times in the past years to not know it was never a good thing to leave Roy alone with his thoughts when he had that look in his eye. That look always meant danger, it always meant that he was thinking of _that _night.

The tension of the moment was broken when one of the recruits ventured over to their small group wearing a congenial smile. Jean arched an eyebrow as he watched the woman close the distance between herself and the commander, a slight scowl shaping her features though it was doubtful whether or not she realized it. The woman came to a stop before their group, easily sliding into a stiff salute as she waited for Mustang to acknowledge her.

"At ease." Roy said sharply after responding with a salute of his own. "Is there something I can help you with, soldier?"

"Not at all, sir. I was just going to compliment you on your wonderful little speech." The woman replied with a hint of sarcasm lacing her voice. "Very inspirational."

"I try my best." Mustang responded, seemingly unfazed by the less than hidden bite in the enlisted soldier's words. In fact it looked like the woman had managed to intrigue the General judging by the ever so slight arch to his visible brow. The two militiamen stood there for a moment, each visibly sizing the other up and in doing so amusing those close enough to witness their exchange.

The female officer did not so much as look unsettled when under the General's scorching gaze, and in return Roy seemed genuinely unaffected by the bold woman's stare.

"Do you have a name, Corporal?" Roy inquired with a smirk.

"Marta." The woman replied briskly with a slight incline of her head. The movement caused a short lock of blond hair to slip from beneath her cap, proving that she was indeed a woman despite her overall gruff appearance. Two tattoos stretched across the right side of Marta's face that almost looked like red claw marks, but a closer look would reveal that they were in fact no more than tattoos. The design stretched to her right shoulder where they swirled decoratively in a design that was snake-like in make.

"Marta...?"

"Just Marta." Her firm voice left no room for questions.

"I look forward to fighting alongside you, 'Just Marta'." Roy replied with a hint of amusement lacing his voice. No one in the group missed the slight quirk to his lips that was the beginnings of the General's genuine trademark smirk. It was clear that Mustang found the younger woman's presence intriguing, no doubt due to the familiar air of confidence that Marta held.

Her cocky nature reminded them all of one person in particular; a young teen who had singlehandedly shaken up the military by his skill alone.

Looking at Marta was like looking at Edward Elric again.

"Same to you, General." Marta claimed before leaving with a parting salute to her superiors. She then left the group behind without so much as a backwards glance, moving to rejoin her fellow comrades as they gathered their supplies before they moved out.

"This could turn out to be interesting after all." Havoc quipped as he placed a cigarette between his lips, though making no move to light the cancer stick. The cigarette shifted to the side of the Lieutenant's mouth as he allowed a grin to form. His eyes studied Mustang carefully as the General responded without bothering to tear his gaze from the blond woman's retreating form.

"It could indeed."

R-2-F

The building that served as Resembool's makeshift hospital could only be described as something short of chaotic. The structure itself seemed strong enough despite it's visibly crumbling support beams and walls; a spiderweb of cracks even decorated the unremarkable ceiling. Overall the building was rundown and didn't look as if anyone had lived in it for countless many years, however the halls milling with people and the busy corridors proved that this was no longer the case.

As the quartet walked they literally bumped into several nurses and medics. The scrambled aids would hastily ramble out an apology over their shoulders as they continued hurriedly on their way, leaving the others baffled in their wake. Russel and Edward shared a confused look over the top of Fletcher's head, but neither had any answers to offer the other. Seeing as this was the case Russell was the first to speak up.

"Did something happen?" He inquired carefully as he craned his neck to attempt to catch a glimpse inside one of the rooms off of the main hall that appeared to be jam packed with people-- presumably the injured. The blond's gaze strayed to the elderly man that acted as their guide, his brows now furrowed slightly in uncertainty. "Was there some sort of battle here?"

"Battle? Good heaven's no!" The elderly man exclaimed with a hand to his heart. He fell back beside Russell and turned kind eyes to the younger man. "Resembool is neutral territory so neither the army or the Naturalists dare set foot on our soil."

"Then why all of the patients?"

"Though we're neutral, we aren't ignorant to the war going on around us, sonny. We fight in our own special way by offering medical aid to the injured from either side and to those victimized in their battles. Resembool has become a safe haven to those seeking refuge from this pointless war."

The three younger men all nodded slowly in understanding. Yet again, Russell and Edward shared a look, only this one of silent admiration for the townspeople. In present times it took guts to take a stand such as theirs. Many cities that claim neutrality eventually are forcefully drug into the dispute between the Naturalists and the Military, leaving the town in ruin and the people's numbers depleted. Even more common in medical-aid offering towns are the occasions that fights break out between patients who come from different sides and a small scale war is begun inside the very hospital that nursed them back to health.

Neutrality was a risky stand for even the strongest of cities, and for a small farming town like Resembool to so much as consider taking up that banner was virtually unheard of.

"That's pretty noble for a town full of farmers." Ed said at last, his mind reeling from this new bit of information. The brunette felt a surge of pride for his hometown upon learning of its people's bravery, but closely following that emotion was an intense wave of guilt that Ed himself was not a part of the struggle. Had he returned to Resembool after leaving Central Ed would have surely been actively involved with the town's neutrality efforts. However, had he returned the ex-alchemist would have surely been found by either Mustang or members of the military who would have quickly put him to death for deserting their ranks.

Even now, eight years later and in the midst of a large scale war, Ed could not find it in himself to enjoy the comfort of coming back home.

"I wouldn't go so far as to say what we do is noble," The elderly man rebuked with a toothy smile. "But it's right by us, and that's what matters."

The four men continued walking, finding a staircase and climbing it to reach the second floor of the rickety building which the youngest three men all feared would give out with every step they took, before they finally came to a stop in front of a room that was somehow even fuller than the ones they had seen downstairs. The doors leading into the room were shut most of the way and hindered the group's view of those who were inside. What they could see of the room they could view only through the small crack left between the two heavy doors.

"Well, this is it." The elderly man said with his ever-present grin. He turned to regard Ed through half closed eyes, his face giving nothing away to his inner thoughts. Therefore it took the brunette completely by surprise when the man suddenly reached inside of Ed's threadbare jacket and retrieved both his revolver and dagger. The old man shoved the revolver into his own back pocket but paused to unsheathe the knife.

He switched the dagger from one hand to the other a few times before holding it up to survey it in the light shining through a small hole in the roof. The light glinted from the blade's pristine surface, casting small rays of light onto the walls surrounding the group of men. The elderly man allowed a small smile to stretch across his face as he studied the dagger intently. "This is a mighty fine knife you have, boy." He stated offhandedly before switching it to his other hand once again. "You take good care of it. A family heirloom, maybe?"

Edward eyed the man carefully, his eyes narrowing into a frown. "It's just a knife, old man." He stated flatly as he took a step forward. The brunette stretched out a hand with his palm facing up towards the older man. "But I would like it back, if you don't mind." Though he attempted to act nonchalant there was no missing the sudden stiffening of the brunette's back as the older man admired the dagger.

Russell and Fletcher both exchanged a look; the brothers knew exactly where that blade had come from. Once, long ago on a night that was rather insignificant in itself, they had asked their friend the same question only to learn that it had belonged to the brunette's father. In their several years together the brothers could only recall Ed having so much as mentioned his father so scarcely that one could easily count the number of times on a single hand. This being the case, both Russell and Fletcher were able to remember this fact quite easily.

The old man laughed, seeming completely oblivious to the tension that had fallen over the three younger boys. "Have it your way." He replied easily with a grin as he held out the unsheathed blade to Ed. However, when Ed reached out to take the dagger the man moved suddenly, jerking his hand away from Ed's only to adjust his hold on the knife and plunge the blade into Ed's side.

Ed gave a disbelieving groan of pain as the old man withdrew the dagger and took a step back, his smile still firmly in place even as Russell tackled him into the nearest wall. Ed stumbled back a step as his hand automatically rose to press gingerly against his side. He felt the warmth of blood begin to pool against his fingers and drew his hand away to stare dumbly at the crimson fluid now staining his palms.

"Ed!" Fletcher cried as he rushed to his friend's side. The younger blond's gaze followed Ed's and the Tringham's face visibly paled upon seeing the blood. Green eyes searched their surroundings frantically in hopes of spotting a nurse or medic passing by, but as luck would have it they were the only ones in the hallway of the second floor. Panic filled Fletcher's voice as he began to shout for help.

"Somebody help! We need a doctor over here! _Please_!"

An instant later the heavy doors closing off the room they had been studying earlier were thrown open, revealing a woman dressed in a lab coat. The woman's serious gaze quickly took in the scene before her before she demanded shortly, "What happened here?". Her voice held a degree of danger about it that made the youngest Tringham shake in fear. Luckily for him, Russell seemed to be completely unaffected by the woman's tone or was either too enraged to pay heed to such a thing.

"This _bastard_," Russell seethed, emphasizing who exactly he was referring to by viciously jerking the old man away from the wall only to slam him back against it once again, his angry gaze straying towards the woman for only a second. "Stabbed my friend!"

The woman's eyes narrowed dangerously as she took in the old man's appearance before she shifted her gaze to Ed's hunched form. Her eyes did not soften even a fraction, though it was clear her anger was not directed at the bleeding man but at his attacker. She moved forward with quick and efficient steps, her heels clicking noisily against the wood flooring as she crossed the floor to stand directly in front of the brunette. "Let me see." She commanded, moving Ed's hand away with a surprisingly gentle touch so that she could inspect the wound.

Ed reluctantly allowed the woman that was presumably a doctor to look at his side, though his eyes didn't raise to meet hers until she spoke again.

"The wound doesn't appear to be too deep." She said at length, her eyes still fixed on the bleeding cut. "However it needs disinfecting and treatment immediately. Come with me." The woman turned on her heel and began towards the room from which she had come but hesitated when she noticed that Ed had not moved an inch. She turned once again to fully face the brunette, her eyes revealing concern for the first time since she had entered the hall. "Can you move?"

"I..." Ed began but failed to finish his thought, his eyes transfixed on the woman's face and all thought fleeing from his mind. His mouth suddenly felt terribly dry and he swallowed heavily, but even that did nothing to sooth his suddenly parched mouth. His silence earned him a concerned look from both the Fletcher and the doctor, and even Russell chanced a glance over his shoulder to peer at the brunette inquisitively.

Finally Ed managed to form one word, the single word that raced through his brain and caused every other thought process he was capable of to shut down.

"Winry..."

R-2-F

Author's Note: Okay, so I'm an evil little git for leaving the chapter there, but if I continued I would end up dwarfing the other chapters I've put out! Therefore, for the sake of keeping the chapters roughly the same length and keeping increase in their lengths gradual, I'm going to leave this chapter where it is. I hope you guys enjoyed it! I sure did!


	6. PostApocalyptic Writer's Block Update

Update from the Author

Well. Hello there, all. It's been a while.

*Dodges angry readers*

Yeah, sorry about that. It seems that I had a major case of FMA writer's block. However I recently got bored and started (figuratively) flipping through some of my old stuff, and I have to admit I'm still madly in love with this story and am considering picking it up again. Mind you, I'd first have to go through and edit the hell out of the original drafts both to improve the quality of writing and also to remind myself of the storyline. My question is this: would anyone be interested in even reading it at this point?

Either way I believe I'm going to start editing Take It All Away and polish it for posting on my LJ account and work my way through to the sequel. If anyone's interested, I'll see about continuing Nothing Left to Give while I'm at it.

Feedback is my air, guys! Let me know what you want to see- or you know, if you even care after all this time. :)

Cheers!

R2F


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